The Social Whirl

So the last few weeks have been an endless Brands Hatch of drinks parties, weddings, dinners, talk, talk, talk. It's our first Christmas 'out' as Greens, and I've noticed a subtle change in the way we've acted/been treated. We haven't seen a drop off in invitations - the reverse, if anything, as if we've achieved some kind of social cache by being green, or, at least, the kind of greens who dress well. I went to one of the parties alone - while Mark stayed at home for a scheduled Green Party meeting to which no one turned up - and found myself being whisked around from movie producer to Tory MP, and back to famous writer, being introduced as the wife of a GP candidate. The room was full of glamorous, rich Notting Hillites, successful, stimulating people. I felt the thrill of being among them, only heightened by a slight sense of being the 'only Green in the village'.
It's the conversational content that has changed more noticeably. Even some of our closest friends are obviously embarrassed by our perceived hair shirts. They no longer talk openly about planned holidays to Barbuda or the Maldives (last chance to see???), and if they mention air travel at all, it is with embarrassment or defensiveness. I can see where they're coming from: I'd make myself feel ashamed of hopping on pleasure flights. The awful thing is that I know I don't always go out of my way to put them at ease. I feel sick enough about our stance not to want to pass on some of the misery to others. So much for the season of generosity (of which, more anon).
I don't mean to talk about the environment endlessly, but I still find myself giving the odd lecture. It must be numbingly dull, and I really wouldn't blame anyone for crossing us off their dinner party list. I also worry about Mark: at a local drinks party the other night, I caught sight of him in a huddle of men, and I could almost see green bile pouring out of his mouth into their ears. I dived across in an attempt at intervention, only to find general laughter at some Jeremy Clarkson anecdote. I am beginning to think Mark is not quite as obsessed as I am - though I did have to kick him under the table a couple of weeks ago as he started to harangue our friend Jo about ordering fish, straight after she had generously taken us to Sadlers' Wells.
Perhaps unsurprisingly, both Mark and I respond better to direct attacks on our greenness than polite pussy-footing around it. It might not make us like the environmental Luddite any better, but it's sure as hell more amusing. So, if anyone wants their party to go with a bang, we're available...